


Me Too

by orphan_account



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: M/M, Smut, pov kind of thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-17
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-21 07:36:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21071264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I’m marked in too many ways that mean nothing to either of us.





	Me Too

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream about Noel last night & he was real soft and sweet in it so uhhh yeah this came about, not sure how I feel about the whole POV thing yet but it’s something new. Hope you enjoy :)

You look at me like I’m the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen, which we both know isn’t true, because you’ve said I’m a good-looking kid too many times for me to ever believe you don’t mean it. Maybe it’s the way I’m stumbling over to you and slurring in your ear that you find unappealing, probably is, but you should be used to it by now, it happens often enough. I tell you I wanna go to the room, and you shrug me off, rolling your eyes so your  _ friends  _ won’t suspect anything. I don’t know why you hang out with them. They’re boring and you become boring when you’re around them, and boring Noel isn’t someone I like. 

I tell you again, and I know you’re getting frustrated; your head and your cock are always in a constant battle. You’ll never know how that affects me. You lean close to my ear, so close I can feel your breath, hot, and I imagine it on other places of my body. “Gimme a half hour,” you whisper, and you try to sound annoyed, but I can hear it — the want. I walk off. 

When I get to the room, I cut a few lines for both of us, knowing it’ll make up for bothering you, at least that’s what you’ll tell me. You’ll try to make me believe you don’t want this, that you don’t wanna be inside me, and I find your persistence cute, but I won’t ever tell you that. You’d just throw it in my face anyways. 

You’re there when you said you’d be — a half hour. I’m surprised ‘cause you usually make me wait forever, teaching me patience and that, but you’re here on time, and you look good. I hate your new haircut, you look too much older than you are, but your eyes are the same, and when you see the coke, there’s a familiar hint of a smile. It’s still you, just with a dumb fucking haircut. 

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you tease me, and I barely smile because I’m just ready to get undressed and have you inside of me, I don’t want to talk.

“Yeah, well, guess you deserve it sometimes.” You laugh and it makes my heart jump, so I lean down and sniff one of my lines. I would wait for you to go first, show you how polite I can be, but you ruin that when you smile at me just now. It’s always your fault. 

You do your lines while I get on the bed, trying to not touch myself as I watch the way your body moves. I feel dumb, too animalistic and too desperate, but who can blame me? You look so good, Noel, all the time, and you don’t see it which makes it even worse, makes it unintentional, and I could hit you for it. I might do that. 

“I don’t remember ordering a hooker,” you taunt, climbing onto the bed and over me, face in mine as I lean back against the headboard, and my breath is cut short. You’re being nice, you’re happy, and you smell good. I don’t know if I can survive tonight. 

“Courtesy of the staff,” I decide to play along, licking my lips, and you grin, finally kissing me. Your lips are chapped; it’s been so cold and windy lately, but they taste like alcohol, and I want to get drunk. 

I move so I’m lying on my back, and you lay on top of me, your hands running through my hair, and, for a moment, I think you might really love me, but I know better. So I kiss you harder to get rid of the thoughts, because they don’t matter, only the feeling of your cock against my hip matters right now, and I grab your arse to pull you against me, both of us sighing. 

You always want me shirtless, I don’t know why, but it’s the first thing you want after we kiss, and I take it off before you can tell me to. I hate when you tell me to do things. You look pleased when I do it, though, like I’m obeying you without you having to tell me to do anything, and I want to tell you I’m not obeying you, I’m just hurrying things along. But I let you have it, that control. It makes you feel good, and I like to make you feel good. 

Next comes your shirt, and my pants and then your pants, and I can see your cock through your underwear that oddly look like a pair of mine. Nothing turns me on more than when you get hard. Fucking primal instinct skyrockets, and I want to be a whore for you. I remember how many other whores you have, how many people you fuck that aren’t me. I wonder if you know how many people I fuck that aren’t you. 

We sit on our knees after we get out of our boxers, and I look down at your cock; it’s red and it looks like it hurts, and I’ve never loved another cock, I don’t think I ever could. Yours is all I need. I want to tell you how much I love it, but I stop myself because you’re already proud enough seeing how I stare at it. I hate adding to your ego. 

You touch me first. It’s just knuckles on my thigh, but I flinch from the contact and scoot closer, kissing you again, tongues wrapping around each other. I don’t like kissing you any other way. I need it dirty, wet, nearing on California porn. You know this, and you kiss me the same way, letting me have my moment before it all turns back to you. 

We lay down again, and your fingers are in my mouth while your lips work at my neck, and I’m marked in too many ways that mean nothing to either of us, but you still do it. You still have to make sure there’s evidence, even though you’re the one always trying to forget. Your fingers are near my hole, and I’m tensing up for a few seconds before I relax, letting you push one inside. It always feels odd at first, and I ask myself again if brothers should be doing this, but I told you once that sometimes soulmates are born as brothers, so I don’t answer my own question. 

You work me open, and I pant into your mouth while your tongue traces my teeth and my lips, my hand grabbing hold of your cock, hot and pulsing against my palm.  _Please get inside me_ I want to beg, but you would just laugh. 

“Noel,” so I go for moaning your name, and you kiss me deeper, slower than earlier, before you grab the lube we accidentally left out on the nightstand the night before. Usually you’d be pissed that I didn’t hide it, but you don’t care this time, and I watch as you prepare yourself, biting at your ear and scratching my nails across your shoulders, knowing you like that more than you’re willing to admit. 

When you’re finally inside of me, I hear that grunt you let out every time it happens, and my eyes close as I shiver. I’m still sensitive from last night, it was one of our rougher times, but it’s a great kind of discomfort, and I wish it could last for the rest of time. 

“Liam... Liam, talk to me,” your voice is ragged and you sound gorgeous. You always want me to talk to you; it takes you away from the guilt. 

“Noel... Noel, love you... love your cock,” I breathe, and I hear you sigh. 

“Tell me more”

“Been wantin’ to fuck you all day... since last night,” I tell you, despite not wanting to. I don’t want to feed your ego, but it’s all I can think of to say while you’re driving into me so deep I’m seeing stars. “You know that, though,” I add, because you do. You know exactly what I want every time I look at you. 

“You’ve been wanting to _be fucked _ by me all day,” of course you have to say something like that, but’s okay because you reach that spot inside of me as soon as you do, and my back arches, my toes curling. 

“Yeah, yeah,” I’m panting again, and I feel you smile against my shoulder. If my cock wasn’t so hard, I’d probably smile too. 

You’re going faster, your hips are bruising mine and I hope there will be remnants tomorrow of purple and yellow on my skin, reminding me of what you’ve done to me. Everything in my body is so tight, so tense, and you’re the same way, rigid and waiting to cum, so I contract around you, clenching and unclenching, and the extra work is worth it when I hear your choked gasps, your head buried against my neck. You come before I do, which isn’t usual, but I keep clenching to make it better for you; I just wanna give you everything sometimes. But you keep thrusting and your hand wraps around my cock, jerking quick and tight, and I’m soon behind you, coating both of us in my jizz while I moan your name because I know nothing else right now. Only you exist. 

We breathe heavy as we come down, but we don’t kiss. That would make it too real and too intimate, and we can’t handle that with everything going on. So I grab us both cigarettes and light them, handing one to you, and you give me that look that tells me everything we can’t say.  _ Me too.  _


End file.
